You're A What!
by country-rodeo-girl
Summary: England gets suspicious when America starts coming to meetings with random injuries. It's not until America comes one day with a bandaged up wrist,and the fact that he seems to be having trouble breathing and won't stop rubbing his side;that he really gets concerned. Thinking America's getting abused by someone, England decides to confront him. But are things really what they seem?
1. Where is he!

It was mid-march and all the nations were gathered around the conference hall, about to start the world meeting. Problem was a certain hyper active, burger obsessed nation who happened to be the host of the meeting, had yet to show up. England glanced around at all the annoyed faces of the others in the room. Where is that bloody git! England thought as he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

He tried his best to appear irritated, but in reality he was a worried mess. Something wasn't right about America as of late. He'd been showing up to the meetings all beat up for about the past couple of months now. It started with a simple black eye, which the idiot (as England thought of him as by now) claimed to have received after he shook his coke up and the lid flew off, hitting him in the eye. But as the month went on, America started showing up with severe cuts and bruises on his face and arms. England was starting to get suspicious and would question the American every chance he got, but the only answers he received would be these ridiculous scenarios.

Soon England began to wonder if his little brother was being abused by someone. Well if he is, that person better be prepared for a beating of their own! England thought as he looked at the door for about the tenth time in the last five seconds. He was about to go look for the git himself when the door opened slowly. Everyone in the room went quiet and looked towards the door as America finally walked in, with Canada trailing behind him.

America smiled and yelled:

"HEY EVERYONE! THE HERO HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!" His yell was shortly followed by a grown and a slight coughing fit, as everyone in the room glared at him. Canada placed a comforting hand on his younger brothers back, a look of sympathy on his face. England was the first to speak, shouting:

"Where the bloody hell have you been!" America cleared his throat, and said in a slightly hoarse voice,

"Relax dude, I got caught up in some hero business." He stood up straighter and smiled "I'm here now, so let's get this thing going!" America walked happily to his seat next to England, Canada trailing behind, and sat down. England glared at him before looking at Germany as he started the meeting.

Things were going as normal for the first part of the meeting. America was being is normal obnoxious self, Japan was agreeing with everything America said, Italy was complaining about wanting pasta, and Germany was yelling at everyone who got out of line. But as the meeting went on, America seemed to be quickly losing energy. England watched him as he tried to keep up his normal banter throughout the meeting. That's when he started to notice even more off with him. He noticed that America's breath seemed to hitch with each inhale and he was still having random spurts of coughing every once in a while.

Is his asthma acting up again? England wondered. When America was young he had some problems with asthma, which England thought he grew out of. It was only about three months ago that he found out that wasn't true. That was when America had a slight asthma attack while visiting him. As England examined America closer, he noticed that America's right wrist was bandaged up. Furrowing his brow, England's concern became even greater. That's it; I'm getting to the bottom of this. He thought as he glanced up at the clock. He noted that the meeting had gone on for a few hours now, and honestly nothing had been accomplished at all.

Clearing his throat, England raised his hand. Germany, who had just finished telling Italy off for trying to steal food from his lunch box, glanced over and said;

"Yes England?"

"Germany, we have been at this for hours now. Is it not time to just call it a day and continue this later?" England suggested, sneaking a very quick glance towards America once more. Germany nodded and replied;

"Yeah, I suppose your right. Meeting dismissed." As everyone filed out of the room, England turned to ask America what was going on. To his surprise, America was almost to the door with Canada already. Quickly, he jumped out of his seat and rushed to catch up.

"Come on Canadia! We have to get to the arena to…" Suddenly a hand was placed on his shoulder, spinning him around. America blinked as he came face to face with a very irritated looking England.

"Whoa dude, what's up?" He asked, taking a step back. England glared at him slightly, folding his arms.

"Don't what's up me you git. I want to know whats going on, and don't you dare give me some outrageous story." England all but growled. America raised an eyebrow looking completely confused.

"What are you talking about Iggy?" He asked. England pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, trying to remain calm as all the worry and anger he has felt for the past month built up.

"I'm talking about your injuries! You have been showing up to every meeting more beaten up then the last. What's going on America?! Is someone abusing you or something?!" England replied, worry dripping through every word. America's eyes widen slightly, he had not heard England sound so worried in decades. Looking down and rubbing the back of his head, America answered:

"England it's nothing to worry about." Canada, who had been listening the whole time, chimed in with:

"America, maybe you should tell him the…" But he was cut off by America giving him a very dark glare. There was no way he wanted to tell England the truth. England, feeling even more worried and irritated, just about pleaded:

"Please Alfred, tell me." America's face went red as he blushed a bit. England hardly ever calls him by his name anymore. Feeling bad, he frowned and muttered:

"I'm sorry England…" and before another word could be said, America grabbed Canada's hand and dragged him out of the room. England stared at the door, a hurt look on his face. That look quickly turned to one of anger as he glared at the door.

"Oh no! You're not getting off easy this time!" and with that he rushed out the door after them, ready to follow and see just what was really going on.

So, what do you guys think so far?


	2. America's Guilt

America groaned as he sat down in the passenger seat of Canada's car, gently wrapping his arms around his soar chest. He thought that meeting would never end; thankfully England put a stop to it. Speaking of England, America thought, is he really that worried… Is it bad that I haven't told him? The more America thought about it, the more he began to feel guilty.

Letting out a small whimper, America wrapped his arms tighter around himself. The guilt was really starting to set in, and he didn't like it. Canada looked at him in worry as he started the car. Mistaking America's behavior has a sign of pain; he cleared his throat and muttered:

"America, maybe we shouldn't go… I mean there's no guarantee that they will ok you." America looked up with a very offended look on his face. He sat up straight and put his arms to the side, hoping this would make him seem more convincing, and practically growled;

"No way bro! I'm so close to winning, there's no way I will back down now!" He folded his arms and pouted, leaning back against the seat. "Besides dude, I'm fine." Canada sighed and pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road, heading towards America's house.

"America, you can hardly breathe. There's no way they will…" Canada flinched as America interrupted him with a loud shout:

"HEY! I'm fine. Doctor Thompson said that if I was breathing better than I was last night, and have been up and around today without problems, then I would be fine for tonight." America glared at Canada, daring him to argue. Rolling his eyes, and knowing just how hard headed his brother could be; Canada dropped the topic. They continued down the road in silence, tension slowly dissolving thankfully.

America looked out the window and furrowed his brow. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of England's worried and hurt look out of his mind. As if reading his mind, Canada stated:

"You know, he's gonna find out one of these days. Might as well tell him yourself." America looked down at his hands and shook his head.

"I can't do that…" America muttered.

"And why not?" Canada asked. "I told France when I used to compete. He didn't seem to have a problem with it."

"Dude, England's different. He would kill me if he found out." America said, still not looking up.

"You realize he's going to be more angry, and likely to kill you, if he finds out on his own rather than from you right?" Canada stated. America finally looked up, almost looking like a puppy who just did something wrong.

"Yeah, I know…" America replied. He let out a harsh cough and rubbed his sides, trying to ease the pain. As they stopped at a red light, Canada reached over and patted his brothers back. He felt bad for the young American, not just because he was hurt, but because he knew what the poor lad was going through. Canada had gone through the same thing when he told France. To be honest he felt just as terrified about telling England, which he is ashamed to say he never did gather up the courage to do so.

As Canada turned onto the road that lead into America's neighborhood; a certain british gentleman, who was following a few cars behind, was still desperately wondering what was going on.

* * *

First let me just say; thank you guys so much for all the awesome feedback! I honestly did not expect people to like this story so much.

So, this chapter was more of a filler and my way of continuing the mystery :P I also just wanted to do a scene where you could see what was going on through America's mind. The next chapter will go back to England and at this point I plan to reveal the secret too. No promise though, I tend to get carried away when I write.


	3. What is That Git up to?

England sat in his car and watched as Canada parked his car in front of America's house. America hopped out of the car and ran up the steps, tripping about half way. That idiot has no coordination! England thought, rolling his eyes. In reality he was resisting the urge to run over and see if the lad was alright. That urge became almost unbearable as he saw America coughing again. Thankfully it didn't last long and he was in the house quick as a flash.

England laid his chin in his hand and started out the window. Honestly, what the bloody hell has that git been up to, England thought. What is so traumatic that he can't tell his own brother, his former caretaker! After all I did for him. He sat there with a scowl on his face as he went over his thoughts. One of the neighbor kids spotted the Englishman staring out the window, a funny look on his face.

The kid walked up to the car, a smirk on his face. First he waved a bit, but England was too zoned out to notice. Finding this as a perfect opportunity to mess with him, the kid started making funny faces back. This went on for a while, with random passer-byers staring in confusion. It wasn't until a loud slam of a door outside, did England exit his trance. In fact, it actually startled him pretty bad.

England jumped as he heard the loud slam and smacked his head against the window. While England put his hand on his forehead and cursed under his breath, the kid who had been making funny faces started busting up laughing. Hearing the laughter England glanced outside and his eyes widened as he finally noticed the boy. He glared and pounded his fist on the window, shouting:

"You there! Did you think that was funny?! I'll show you funny!" The child stopped his excessive laughter and looked at England with sad eyes. Trying to keep up to strict adult act, as hard as it was now that the boy was giving him the puppy dog eyes, He put on a stern glare and said:

"Oh don't play that card with me, I'm not an idiot." Realizing that he had been found out, the boy gave a glare of his own and stuck his tongue out before storming off. Giving a satisfied smirk, England leaned back in his seat and glanced up at America's house. His victory was cut short has at that moment America walked out. What the bloody hell is he wearing? England wondered as he watched America walk back to Canada's car.

America had on a pair of blue slightly worn jeans, a red and black flannel that was tucked in. He also had a black belt with a silver buckle and a pair of what looked to be cowboy boots on. England continued to watch as America put a duffel bag in the trunk and hopped back in the passenger seat of Canada's car. Ok, this has just gotten even odder, England thought as they drove down the road.

Quickly he started his car and followed after them, becoming more curious by the minute. After about forty minutes of driving, they pulled into the parking lot of a large arena. It was a huge dome shaped building with big letters reading "Brooks Arena." There were large lights brightening up the parking lot as it got dark.

England saw Canada pull into a parking spot closer to one of the small doors that were usually reserved for the use of performers. Not wanting to be spotted quite yet, England parked in the next row over. Thankfully not many people parked on this side, so England still had a clear view of the two brothers. He watched as they got out of the car and went around to the trunk. America opened it up and pulled his duffel bag out and Canada closed the trunk. The two then proceeded to walk to one of the doors where a man was standing outside.

Once the walked inside, England got out of his car and walked over. The man standing there looked up at him and raised an eye brow.

"Can I help you sir?" He asked, pushing himself off the wall where he had been leaning and standing up straight. He was a rather tall man and had on jeans and a flannel, similar to what America had been wearing.

"Oh, I was just on my way inside." England answered placing his hand on the door knob. He flinched slightly as the man wrapped his hand around England's wrist. The man pulled his hand of the door knob and gave him a stern glare.

"Sorry sir, but staff, riders, and family only." The man stated. England blinked and raised an eyebrow. Laughing nervously, he rubbed the back of his and said:

"Oh, that's right. Well you see my brothers just went in there. I was just trying to catch up with them. The man continued to glare, not believing him for a second. England tried to do his most convincing smile, but sadly it was not enough.

"Sir, if your brothers were in there, they would have told me you'd be coming. If you want to see the show, you're going to have to buy a ticket and go in the main entrance." The man stated, pointing towards the main entrance. England groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Alright, fine! Have it your way." England growled, as he stormed off towards the main entrance. Who does he think he is?! Saying I can't go in! England thought to himself, I'm the bloody United Kingdom for crying out loud! As he stormed up the ticket counter, the lady managing it took a step back slightly.

"One to ticket to, uh… whatever the bloody hell this event is anyway!" England snapped. The lady blinked and raised an eyebrow, saying in a bit of a shaky voice.

"You don't know what you buying a ticket for?" She asked. England slammed his hand down, making her flinch. It was her first day managing the tickets, and at this point she did not think she would be doing so anytime soon after this.

"No, no I don't! My brother just told me to meet him here, now can I just have my ticket please?" England replied. The lady nodded and asked for the 20 dollars needed to pay for it. England practically threw it at her and snatched his ticket. He was about to walk away when he finally realized how rude he had been. With a sigh, he turned his head and muttered:

"Oh, and sorry love for my behavior. It's been a bad day." He placed a tip for her on the counter, since he felt pretty bad, and walked away; leaving the woman in complete shock. As he walked through the main doors and into the arena, he stopped dead in his tracks at the top of the stairs. Everywhere he looked, there were people in cowboy hats all over the place. What's with all the people in stetsons? England wondered. Country music was playing loudly throughout the place, and down below in the center was a fenced in area full of dirt.

"What on earth is going on here?" England asked himself, earning him some strange looks from some of the people walking by. He didn't have much time to ponder this, as a voice came over the speakers saying:

"Alright Folks, find your seats the event will be starting soon!" England blinked and looked down on his ticket, realizing he never did look at where his seat was. Hmm, seat E-18, England noted as he walked down the stairs, scanning the seat numbers. He smiled, spotting his seat and maneuvered his way over. As England sat down, happily noting that he got a pretty good seat for having just purchasing his ticket, a large man in a black cowboy hat and caring a large beer came and sat down next to him. England grunted as the man elbowed him in the ribs and turned to glare at him. The man noticed the glare and returned one of his own, and of course it was loads better than England's. Not wanting to start a fight, England just huffed and looked down to the center of the arena. Oh, this is going to be an interesting night, England thought.

* * *

Well here ya go, Chapter 3 :D There was more to it, but it was getting really long, so I broke it up. Luckily, it means I'll be uploading Chapter 4 tonight too. Anyone think they know what America's up to now? or is it still a mystery?


	4. Ready to go!

Before you read, I just wanted to say sorry about the last chapter. I forgot to proof read it, so there were a lot of mistakes. I did proof read for this one, and I made sure to actually wear my glasses this time (I make more mistakes without them...) So hopefully this one doesn't have nearly as many. Anyway enjoy the chapter

* * *

America was sitting on an examination table behind the scenes. He kicked his legs back and forth and sat happily waiting for Doctor Thompson to come in and ok him for tonight. Canada stood by him, his arms folded as he watched his brother. Doctor Thompson finally walked in and smiled:

"Hello there, Alfred." He said cheerfully. America smiled and waved enthusiastically.

"Hey, Doc. I'm feeling loads better today, so I can compete tonight right?!" America replied. Thompson laughed at the boys' enthusiasm and patted his shoulder.

"Now hold on Al, I haven't even examined you yet." Thompson said. America pouted and folded his arms. Thompson looked at Canada, who just simply rolled his eyes. He smiled at the Canadian as he pulled out his stethoscope and put it in his ears. He stood to the side of America and placed the round end under America's shirt and onto his bare chest. America shuttered slightly at as the cold metal touched his skin. After listening for a bit, Doctor Thompson nodded, satisfied with the way America's heart sounded. He slowly moved it down slightly and to the side. America tightened his grip on the table, but with a great deal of effort, he did not flinch. Doctor Thompson then removed the stethoscope from his shirt and replaced it on his back.

"Alright, Alfred; Take a deep breathe." Thompson instructed. America glanced at Canada, nervous that another coughing attack would happen. Canada just nodded, signaling it would be fine. America sighed and took as deep a breath as he could. As expected it hitched half way into it and America let out a rough cough. Doctor Thompson frowned and took the stethoscope back, hanging it around his neck.

"Well Alfred, seems like your still having problems." Thompson stated.

"But I can still compete right?! I mean it's not that bad." America argued. Thompson sighed and looked at the American.

"Alfred, broken ribs are not something to be messed with." Thompson replied. He knew how much the boy wanted him to give the ok, but he was not sure he should.

"Oh come on, it's not the first time a guy competed with broken ribs! I'll just make sure to be extra careful tonight" America said. Thompson looked over at Canada and asked:

"What do you think Mathew?"

"Well as his brother, I'd say no. As a veteran to this sport… I'd say it's up to him." Canada replied. Thompson looked at America, considering the pros and cons of the situation. If he let the America compete, it would definitely make the boy happy. Although, there was a huge chance that the injury could get much worse. Doctor Thompson knew how dangerous this sport could be, but he also knew how hard it was to keep the athletes from competing.

"Ok, I'll tell you what kiddo. Let me check your wrist out, and if it's doing alright; you can compete..." America interrupted with a loud, WHOOHOO! Followed by another cough. Thompson cleared his throat and continued his statement, "BUT, we are wrapping both injuries as much as we can to prevent further damage, got it?" America nodded happily and held out his right wrist.

Thompson carefully took off the bandage and twisted his wrist side to side very slowly. America couldn't help the small whimper that escaped as the stiff joint was finally allowed to move. Lucky for him that was to be expected from anyone, so it didn't affect his chances of being cleared. With much reluctance, Thompson cleared him to compete. Although he made America promise to make a safe run, or else he would be dealing with a very cross doctor. Once Doctor Thompson tightly bandaged up his wrist and rib cage once more, he allowed them to leave. With a happy little yip, America jumped off the table. He grabbed his cowboy hat, and placing it on his head, him and Canada walked out of the room.

They walked down the hall to the locker room; where about thirty or so other guys in cowboy hats were hanging out, talking to each other happily. The energy in the room was full of excitement, as each one of the men could not wait for the championship round tonight. America walked over to a small group, all off who were in their mid-twenties or so. One of them smiled happily and waved, saying:

"Hey Al! I'm glad to see you came tonight. Did Doctor Thompson clear ya?"

"He sure did Justin. I am good to go!" America answered happily.

"That's Awesome." Justin cheered, high fiving America. Justin was America's best friend; he was the first one to talk to America when he first started to compete about a year and a half ago. He was a medium sized man with short brown spikey hair. One of the oddest things about him was the fact that he had one green eye and one blue eye.

America tossed his duffel bag down and opened it up. He pulled out his gear, as well as the extra clothes Canada had asked him to bring. Tossing those to Canada, he kicked his duffel bag under a nearby bench. As Canada walked away to go change, America grabbed his chaps and strapped them on. He smiled, happy to be able to actually wear them tonight.

Soon Canada walked back out, wearing jeans and a flannel just like America, except his was red and white with a Canadian flag patch on the arm. As he reached the group, a man walked into the locker room. He had on a head set and was carrying a clipboard. The guy seemed a bit stressed at the moment.

"Alright everyone, time to go out for introductions. We are behind schedule so get moving!" He announced. America bounced up and down happily, completely ignoring the great deal of pain the motion sent through his rib cage. Justin laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

"Ya ready to go kiddo?" He asked. (America was the youngest one in the competition, so everyone called him kiddo)

"You bet!" America answered as he headed off to the center of the arena, everyone trailing behind him. He could tell that this was going to be an amazing event!

* * *

More of another filler. I promise in the next one, you actually find out what's going on!


	5. He's A What!

England jumped slightly as the lights of the arena turned off. The man next to him glanced over and chuckled before taking a large sip of his beer. England was going to glare but he ended up jumping again as loud music started to play. He looked around frantically wondering what was going on as an even louder voice announced:

"Welcome everyone to the P.B.R!"

"What is the PBR?" England muttered to himself. Those around him looked over, a shocked look on their face; all wondering how on earth this guy could not know. He glared at them all and growled;

"Oh, buzz off!" He raised his fist in a threating way, thinking that would help. They all turned back to the center of the arena, not wanting to annoy the clearly irritated Englishman. England looked up at a screen that started playing clips from past events. He raised an eyebrow as each clip was of different guys riding and being bucked off of very large bulls. As the clips continued to play, the voice said once more: "This is Bull Riding!"

People actually do this for fun? England wondered. As the videos stopped, bright lights flashed and the announcer came on the speakers saying:

"Alright everyone, it is time to meet our riders!" As the announcer introduced each name, a man would run out through the gate into the center of the arena. England sat silently as everyone around him cheered. Quickly the music got serious and everyone in the building grew silent.

"Alright, time to meet our top three guys in the world! The ones who have proved just how talented they are!" The announcer said. "First in our number three slot, we have Justin O'Connor!" Everyone cheered as he waved his hat to the crowd. "Next is the man in our number two slot. He is trailing behind the world number one by just 89.25 points, not to mention he is the youngest competitor in the competition. Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome Alfred F. Jones!"

England's heart stopped as the light shone on America. He was waving his hat and had a huge grin on his face. Without thinking England stood up, staring down at the spot light.

"He's… He's a Bull Rider!" England almost shouted. Everyone around him stared, some whispering to each other asking who the idiot was. The guy next to him snorted and laughed:

"Well, duh of course he is! This is bull riding." England spun around and growled;

"Yeah I see that smart ass!" The guy glared at him and shoved England back in his seat as the very furious englishman tried to storm past him. England huffed, wanting to punch the man, but he knew that would not be smart in such a crowded place. So he just sat there fuming as the opening ceremony came to an end and the lights came back on.

So that's what the git has been up to! England thought as he shot daggers at the arena. If looks could kill, his definitely could take out half the arena. So this is why he has been so banged up then, he has been trying to get himself killed by raging animals! England continued to think. Why! Why would he do this?! And behind my back at that!

England glared as he watched the other riders take a shot at riding their bull counter parts. Every once in a while he would grumble to himself. He was extremely angry at this point (it would be kind of hard to miss) but not only that, he was rather hurt as well. Why wouldn't America tell him? Why let him continue to believe that his little brother was being abused! Well technically he was abusing himself, in England's opinion. Sadly England can't beat up America for abusing himself.

England was taken out of his thoughts as he heard America's name being called once again. He sat up and looked down at the shoots, which he figured out was what they called the gates that held the bulls. He could see America sitting on the bull, tying his hand in the rope with the help of Canada. He listened as the announcer said:

"Now folks, you're in for real treat. We actually did not expect Alfred to make an appearance after last night's incident." What incident? England wondered as he looked up to see that they were replaying a clip of it. His eyes widen in shock as he watched the terrifying scene.

The ride started out great and he actually made the whistle. (England discovered that was a signal that the ride was over; not an alarm that something was wrong, which was his first thought.) The get off was what terrified England. America's right hand got caught in the rope and he was dragged along with the bull. England watched in horror as he watched his brother desperately try to free his hand. He then let out a gasp as the bull changed directions and his legs met America's chest. The bull's legs pushed America down, and even though his hand finally popped out, he did not escape; the bull ended up stepping right on his rib cage.

England looked away from the screen and at the arena, almost forgetting he was watching a recap of yesterday's ride, not todays. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he did realize that. How did he survive that? England wondered, forgetting that America is a nation and can handle harder hits than most.

"Now remember folks, Alfred is competing with four broken ribs and a sprained wrist. We will have to see if he can still ride at his best." Well that explains the breathing problems, England thought. He watched as America made his final preparations, hoping that thinks went well this time.

* * *

Down in the chutes:

America sat atop his bull, named Wild Wind. He reached down and started positioning his rope. Justin was standing on the on the gate, ready to tighten the rope when America needed him to. Canada reached down and helped America position his hand in the rope. True to his word, Doctor Thompson had indeed wrapped his wrist as tight as he could; so now he couldn't quite turn it enough to get it in the rope. Thankfully he could still tighten his hand to actually hold on; otherwise he wouldn't be riding at all. Once they got his hand in, Justin started to tighten it. America let out a loud squeak, closing his eyes as his wrist gave a painful throb. Canada reached down quickly to loosen the rope a bit, as Justin watched, feeling bad that he caused his best friends pain.

Canada repositioned his hand so that it wasn't in such an uncomfortable position. Being a veteran rider, Canada knew a few tricks for these kinds of injuries. America smiled at Canada and told Justin to start tightening it again. Once America felt that it was tight enough, he reached up with his free hand and took a hold of the rope. With the help of Canada again, he wrapped the rope around his hand and put it between his pinkie and ring finger. Justin climbed to the other side of the shoot and jumped down to stand by Canada.

America scooted up as close to his riding hand as he could, letting out a soft groan in the process. Noticing the looks of concern coming from his friend and his brother, he looked up and smiled; wanting to assure them that things were fine. America looked down at his hand and nodded his head, saying:

"Buck 'em!" As the gate open the bull shot out like a rocket. The game was on!

* * *

Yep, you finally get the big reveal! Now if anyone's curious as to why Canada is a former bull rider, even though most people consider him more of a hockey player; It's because some of the best riders in the PBR are from Canada. Canada even has their own PBR events and finals. (at least I'm pretty sure they have a finals.) Anyway, Hope you enjoyed this chapter ^-^


	6. The Ride Begins!

England sat on the edge of his seat and watched anxiously as the bull shot out of the gate. The bull thrashed wildly, kicking up dust and spinning to the left. England watched every movement both the bull and America did. His heart was racing as the scene from last night's ride played through his mind. Whatever you do git! DO. NOT. GET. HURT! England repeated that over and over in his mind as he watched. Never before in his life did eight seconds seem to be such a long time!

Down on the dirt:

America's hand tightened as the bull shot out of the gate. As the bull thrashed around, America instinctually moved his body so that he could stay with it. Once the bull turned to the left, America mentally groaned. The bull spinning to the left required America to make more adjustments with his riding hand, which at this moment was not very easy; things were going to get difficult.

The ride seemed to be going smoothly, but as it continued; America was having a harder time staying on. He could feel his grip slipping and every twist of his upper body sent shooting pain through his chest. Sensing the weakness in its rider, the bull started adding more power to its kicks. Every once in a while it would throw in a belly roll as well. What the bull was not aware of was that it's rider was the United States of America, and he was bound and determined to prove he could make this ride.

As the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride; America smiled. He brought his free hand down to his rope and pulled, freeing his riding hand. Throwing his left leg over the bulls back, America jumped down. Immediately he took off away from the bull, remembering his promise for a clean get off, which he is proud to say he accomplished just that. As the bull ran back to the gates, America took off his hat and waved to the crowd.

Back In the Stands:

As the buzzer sounded, England leaped out of his seat. Jumping up and down, arms flailing about, England cheered as loud as he could. To be honest, he was most likely the loudest one in the crowd. There were no words that could describe just how relieved he felt. With his heart racing, England looked around and discovered he had quite a few people staring at him. Laughing nervously, England sat down, blushing like crazy. He looked back to the center of the arena trying his best to look casual.

Back on the dirt:

As he walked happily to the side gate to go behind the shoots, America let out a harsh, shallow breath. Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, his ribs and wrist were killing him. Not to mention the dirt flying around agitated his asthma. As he opened the gate and shuffled behind the shoots, Canada and Justin came running over.

"Dude, that was amazing!" Justin exclaimed, high fiving America.

"Yeah, Al. Nice ride." Canada said with a smile on his face.

"Thanks guys." America replied, letting out a muffled cough. Justin didn't seem to notice the cough and continued his rapid talking with America. Canada on the other hand practically froze. Sure he could see his brother was "fine", but he was more than aware of the danger America was in riding with broken ribs.

"Um Al, can I talk to you for a second?" Canada asked as he grabbed his brother's arm and pulled him to the side, not even bothering to wait for a response. America blinked and let out a grunt as Canada spun him around to face his brother.

"Dude, what was that for?" America asked, pulling his arm away.

"Are you alright Al?" Canada questioned. America tilted his head, clearly clueless as to what his brother meant.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm fine." He answered. Canada sighed, slightly annoyed at how oblivious America could be at times.

"Are you feeling ok? Any trouble breathing or moving?" Canada asked. America pretended to suddenly be very interested with his bull rope, picking off bits of fuzz off it. Losing his patience, Canada reached over and took the rope out of his hand.

"Today Alfred." Canada almost growled. America looked up with a look of determination and certainty.

"Relax Mattie, I'm fine!" America Replied. His breath hitched a bit and he tried his best not to cough. There was no way he would admit that he couldn't breathe very well. He had one more ride before winning this competition, and he wasn't dropping out now. Canada rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket. He knew that no matter how much he pushed, America wasn't going to admit anything. He pulled out his hand and held out an inhaler to America.

America's eyes widen slightly in surprise, he forgot Canada kept one of those for him. Trying to be his normal, dramatic self; America rolled his eyes and snatched it out of Canada's hand. Just to satisfy Canada, he shook the inhaler and put it to his mouth. Once he pushed the button and inhaled some of the medicine, he slammed it back in Canada's hand. Secretly, he was actually very appreciative that Canada had that. Turning away, America walked over towards Justin and leaned up against the fence. As the rides went on; America, Justin, and Canada chatted away as they awaited the championship round to begin.

About an hour later, the final standings for the championship round (also known as the short-go) were set. America grinned as he noticed that he was in first place; there was no way he could lose this. Justin grabbed America by the arm and pulled him towards the gate.

"Come on Al, we have to make our picks!" Justin exclaimed as he walked excitedly into the arena. As they lined up, America stared up at the screen. The bulls for the short-go were posted already, giving the riders a chance to think about who they wanted. America jumped slightly as the announcer called his name. Smiling he walked up to the stage in the middle of the arena and stood next to the announcer.

"So Alfred, you have made it this far and you're in first place going into the short-go; so first pick is yours. Who are you going to pick?" The announcer asked. America looked up at the screen once more, mentally going over the possibilities. That's when he spotted the one:

"I think I'll go with… Red Hot!" America stated. The announcer looked at him in complete shock.

"Red Hot?! Are you sure about that? He's pretty dangerous." The announcer questioned.

"Of course I'm sure! I want to go out with a bang!" America replied confidently. Red hot was the toughest bull in the sport to date, and America wanted to prove he could do it. The announcer gave him a hard clap on the back as America walked off the stage. With a huge grin on his face, America stood back in line. Excitement was already boiling inside of him as he anticipated his match with Red Hot. Be ready Red Hot, America thought, because today; you're going to meet your match!

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Hey guys! Wow, I'm shocked at how much feed back I've gotten for this. I thought once it got to the bull riding more people would get less interested (tends to happen) In fact I've been getting a lot of story followers. Thank you all so much :D I'm sorry that it took so long to get this one up, schools been hectic. Not to mention I've gotten into BBC Sherlock, which has taken up most of my time XD (and I noticed I put a Sherlock reference in the last chapter not even realizing it) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter ^-^ next update should be soon, this is the part of the story I have been waiting to write!


	7. Short-Go!

America walked back behind the chutes, a huge grin still plastered on his face. He was full of excitement about his up and coming match up with Red Hot. Some may say that he made a foolish decision picking the rankest bull in his condition, but that just made it all the more tempting for the nineteen year old. As America rounded the corner; he was met with a harsh smack to the back of the head.

"Ouch! What was that for?" America yelped as he looked up at his very irritated looking brother. Canada glared at him and smacked him for a second time, replying with:

"For being an idiot! Al, do you realize how much danger you're in riding Red Hot?! Especially in your condition!"

"Hey, I'm not idiot!" America responded, folding his arms and pouting. "Besides, I am fully aware of the risk. That's part of the sport Mattie!" Canada sighed, knowing that was true. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't be annoyed. Feeling as if his point was made, America walked off to the fence where he left his gear.

Time seemed to fly as the short-go began. America watched as each rider made an attempt at their final bull. So far only two had actually made the whistle, but they didn't receive enough points to kick him out of first place. Soon there was only him and Justin left to ride; this was the head to head match that the crowd was waiting for.

America stood on the gate, holding the tail of the bull rope while Justin got his hand positioned. As Justin gave him the signal, he started to pull. He could feel the tension going through the rope as it tightened around the two ton animal. The bull shifted slightly, causing the rope to slide back a tad bit so that it didn't rub against the back of his elbow. Noticing that, America couldn't help but smirk; he always found it amusing how the animals knew how to position the rope, just as the cowboys did.

Justin reached up, taking the tail out of America's hand and wrapped it around his hand. America climbed up the gate and leaned forward, about ready to clamper to the other side. Of course, as luck may have it; it happened to be the same time the Justin threw his free arm up to grab the gate. America clenched his jaw, stifling a yelp of pain as Justin's arm collided with his ribs. Last thing he wanted to do was to through off his best friends focus right before a ride. He quickly made it to the other side and let out a groan, wrapping his arms across his waist.

At the moment he just wanted to double over in pain; he was surprised how much that one hit affected him. Of course, doing that would just create concern and doubt about his ability to ride; so instead he tried to just shake it off and turned around just in time to see the gate open. Within mere milliseconds, all pain was forgotten as America cheered on his friend.

He knew full well that if Justin made this ride, then he would no longer be in first place. That still didn't stop him from cheering on his friend to succeed. That was the funny thing about this sport, no matter how tough the athletes were or how competitive it seemed to be; people could not help but to will each rider that came out to win.

"Come on Justin!" America yelled. He watched every move with great intensity, willing the whistle to sound soon. As if reading his mind, the sound went off and the crowd began to cheer. America jumped in excitement and raced towards the gate to meet his friend.

Confetti started flying as the announcer released the score for the ride, a whopping 92.25 pts! America grinned and practically tackled Justin as he walked through the gate.

"Dude, that was amazing!" America cheered, letting go of Justin.

"Thanks Kiddo, now it's you turn. Show 'em what you got!" Justin replied. America nodded his head, a smile on his face.

In the stands:

England sat up as America's name was announced over the speakers once more. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he watched the chutes carefully; the statement the announcer made earlier about Red Hot being dangerous completely unnerved him. England really hoped that the announcer was just being dramatic to excite the audience.

Back In the chutes:

America sat a top red hot, shaking with excitement. This was the moment he has been waiting for all along. Canada reached down and grabbed a hold of America's wrist, helping position it in the rope like he had earlier. Justin pulled the rope until America reached up, taking hold of it and wrapping it around his hand. Quickly he scooted forward, careful to avoid Justin as he climbed to the other side. Once the coast was clear, he smirked and gave his signature saying once more:

"Buck 'em!"

The gate flew open and Red Hot shot out of the gate with a hard lurch. America flew back on his pockets, gasping in pain as the movement made his ribs feel like they were breaking apart. He pulled himself upright with his riding arm and twisted his body, trying to get in rhythm with red hot. Suddenly Red hot made a very high, force fully jump; coming down hard on his front legs. The force sent America crashing down towards Red Hot's head. As the bull tossed his head up to make another jump, America's own head collided with it.

America let out a cry of pain as very thing around him started to fade into black. He could feel his hand slip out of the rope as Red Hot continued his rampage, followed by the harsh thud of his body coming in contact with the dirt. America coughed and gagged as he inhaled a large amount of dirt before blacking out.

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sorry it took a bit longer to update then planned. I've been busy as of late with school and my birthday ^-^ I hope this was worth the wait though.


	8. Down in The Dirt

I am sorry it took so long to update this. Originally this was going to be done back in December during my winter break, but then my grandpa passed away. After that things with school and such just got in the way. I would like to thank everyone for all the feed back, I cant even begin to express how happy I am that you all like this story. Hope you all enjoy. (oh and blood warning)

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England's eyes widened as he watched the wreck happen. Time seemed to almost stop as he watched America's limp body crash to the ground, breaking his heart as America gasped for the air he desperately needed.

"NO!" England cried as he leapt out of his seat. His arm swung back hitting the beer in the man's hand who had been seated next to him, causing it to spill everywhere. England turned to leave the row of seats, but ended up bumping into the now furious beer covered man. Letting out a grunt, he looked up at the man's face.

"I have had it with you!" The larger man growled. "I've put up with your constant grumbling and talk about how you don't know this here sport, but spilling a man's beer is going too far, now you better sit you butt down and shut up!" England glared up at him, clenching his fist.

"Now see here you bloody git! I suggest that you move out of my way." England snarled. "Generally I would back down in an attempt to make peace, but that rider down there is my brother and there is no way a wanker like you will keep me from going to him. NOW MOVE!" England grabbed hold of the man's shirt and threw him back in his seat before making his way down to the arena. Everyone who had been sat around just stared on in disbelief.

On the dirt:

America groaned as he opened his eyes and glanced around. Everything was a complete blur and his head was pounding. He could hear muffled voices talking around him, but was unable to make them out. Letting out a pained hiss, America tried to push himself up off the ground. Immediately the voices took on a panicked and urgent tone, which only made the pounding in his head worse. Suddenly a hand was placed on his shoulder and a familiar voice started to push its way through his clouded mind.

"Wh…. What?" America asked, looking towards it.

"I said, lay back down. There's no need to get up." Canada muttered. America blinked repeatedly and smiled slightly as Canada's face became more focused.

"Oh, he…ey bro." America said, words slurring together a bit.

"Alfred, can you look at me?" Another voice sounded to his right. Slowly America turned his head and was met with the sight of Dr. Thompson looking at him, clearly concerned.

"Hi doc…" America muttered.

"Alfred, do you remember what happened?" Doctor Thompson asked. America tilted his head slightly and furrowed his brow, trying hard to remember.

"Um, my head decided to go up against the bull… and it lost." America replied. Everyone around him couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt at humor.

"Yes, you could say that. Ok, do you know where we are at the moment?" Thompson continued asking. America blinked hard and looked down. He could see that he was kneeling on dirt, which suspiciously had some blood on it. Sadly other than that, he honestly had no clue.

"Um, a place with dirt?" America asked.

"Well yes, but you'll have to be more specific." Thompson sighed. America swallowed hard, starting to feel very nauseas, and tried hard to think of a better response.

"I… I don't know… I'm assuming in an arena though. "He muttered, panic dripping through his voice. Canada looked up at Thompson, a very worried look on his face. Not knowing where they were was not a good sign, and Canada knew it.

"It's alright; let's move onto a different question." Thompson suggested. "How about you tell me how you're feeling?" America nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything. The nausea was getting increasingly worse and his chest was on fire.

"I… I feel…" America was cut off by a harsh coughing fit that caused his whole body to shudder violently. It felt like fire was erupting in his already damaged lungs as the dirt he had swallowed sent him into an asthma attack. America's eyes widened as he brought a hand up to his chest, the other clenching into a ball in the dirt. He hacked painfully has he began spitting up blood and dirt. Those around took a step back, except for Canada who ended up getting blood down his shirt.

America looked up at Canada, eyes pleading for help as tears ran down his cheeks. Soon his arm gave out and he collapsed forward. Canada quickly threw his arms out, and caught America before he could hit the ground. America clutched to Canada's shirt for dear life as his coughing fit continued. Justin came up next to them and put a comforting hand on his best friends back before looking up at Doctor Thompson.

"Isn't there something we can do to help?" Justin asked. Doctor Thompson opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a horribly painful sounding hack from the young patient. America's whole body lurched as he dispelled more blood and some vomit before his whole body went limp against Canada. He tried to keep his eyes open and sit back up, but his body just wouldn't let him. Another hand was placed on his shoulder and he glanced up at Doctor Thompson.

"Just relax Kiddo, We're going to take care of you." Thompson muttered. America nodded in response and heard The Doctor call for a stretcher before he blacked out once more.

With England:

England slid to a halt as he came up to the fence. Leaning over it, he looked over at where America was still lying in the dirt. The medical staff began rushing over, along with Canada and the cowboy who rode just before. He watched as they all kneeled down and began trying to wake America up. England was about to hop the fence and rush over himself, when he saw America begin to get up. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the lad look around. Relaxing a bit, England just stood there watching, expecting America to get up like nothing happened.

As soon as America let out his first couple coughs though, England knew that wasn't going to be the case. Tears quickly filled his eyes as he watched his brother spiral into the harsh asthma attack, something he hadn't seen since the lad was a child. England watched in horror as the scene continued to play out, and he couldn't hold back the slight sob when he saw America collapse. Quickly a stretcher was brought out, and England stood there frozen as America was placed on it. It wasn't until they began to leave the arena that England finally snapped out of it. Immediately he jumped the fence and chased after them, ignoring the shocked responses of on lookers. As he ran behind the chutes after the stretcher, England hoped beyond all belief that his brother would be alright.

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How was it? Sorry for leaving it on another little cliff hanger, I am bad at that aren't I. Don't worry, it wont take me months to update this time ^-^ oh and I drew a picture of Justin, so people know what he is supposed to look like. I'll post a link next time if enough people are interested.


	9. Behind the Scenes

Woo! Accomplished another Update. Really hope you guys like this chapter, I worked hard on it but for some reason I'm nervous about it. Oh and I did get some people who were interested in seeing what Justin looked like so there's a link a link on my profile.

Mentions of blood and such. Not graphic though.

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England rushed through the gate to go behind the chutes, trying desperately to catch up with the medical team. He grunted as some of the riders and production staff grabbed him around the abdomen and began pulling him back. Flailing his arms in an attempt to break free he began throwing out as many curses and insults he possibly could to make them let go.

"UNHAND ME AT ONCE YOU BLOODY STUPID IMBASOLES!" England yelled as he managed to elbow one of the staff members in the face.

"Sir, you're not allowed back here!" The staff member said through gritted teeth, their nose now dripping blood from England's blow.

"BUT THAT IS MY BROTHER!" England practically wailed. Canada stopped dead in his tracks from his spot outside the medical room and rushed out, feeling like he knew that voice. His heart dropped as he saw England battling to make his way through. Taking a deep breath he walked over to the mass of people and cleared his throat.

"Arthur? What the hell are you doing here?" Canada asked in a surprise tone. England stopped his frantic scrambling and looked up at the Canadian. His face went a bright red has he began to feel slightly embarrassed.

"Oh Matthew! Thank goodness you came over here; tell them to let me go at once!" England pleaded. The staff workers froze and looked at Canada, slightly shocked.

"You know this mad man, Matthew?" One of them asked.

"Yes, unfortunately I do. He is mine and Alfred's older brother." Canada replied with a sigh.

"Oi! What do you mean unfortunately?!" England growled. Canada looked at him with an eyebrow raised, his look saying 'do you see yourself right now?' England immediately looked down, slightly ashamed.

"You guys have an older brother?" One asked surprised.

"Yes, now will you please let him go? I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." Canada asked politely. All the staff members looked at each other, slightly unsure but eventually released the fuming Englishman.

"Thank you." Canada said as he pulling out a handkerchief and handed it to the one England smacked, before grabbing the Brit by the collar of his shirt and dragging him off.

"Oi, let go!" England growled, yanking away from Canada's grip. Canada spun around quickly, anger blazing in his eyes.

"What the hell do you think you were doing back there?! That is not how you deal with a situation like this!" Canada snarled. England blinked in surprise, having no idea the Canadian could be so angry.

"What was I supposed to do? They wouldn't let me in." England retorted.

"You calmly explain things, or you text me! Heck, you're not even supposed to be here. And do you realize how much trouble you could have caused if Al heard you screaming like that?!" Canada snapped.

"I…er well… wait, what do you mean trouble?" England asked.

"You're not supposed to be here! If Al woke up and heard you yelling like that! He'd think you were yelling at him, and would panic!" Canada responded.

"What, Why?!" England muttered, not quite understanding.

"His mind is all fuzzy, he'd think you were mad about him bull riding." Canada sighed.

"WELL I AM MAD! HOW COULD HE DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?" England yelled. Both countries froze as a shrill whistle broke through their conversation. Each looked over to find Justin standing there glaring at them.

"Would you both shut up!?" Justin growled. "Al just woke up and if he hears you both going crazy out here, it might make things worse."

"He's awake?" Both asked at once.

"Yes, but no one's allowed in until they check him over…" Justin muttered sadly. Canada frowned as he noticed the young rider shaking with tears boarding his eyes. Clearly this wreck really had him worried about his best friend.

"Right, well let's go wait outside the room then." Canada muttered, clapping Justin on the shoulder as they went to go sit outside the medical room. England frowned slightly and followed them slowly, not sure what to do. It was about fifteen minutes before Doctor Thompson emerged from the room, looking over the three sitting outside. They all immediately stood up as soon as he came into view.

"So, how is he?" Canada and Justin asked at the same time.

"Well, he has a concussion that's for sure." Doctor Thompson began. "And he is still coughing up blood. I felt around his rib cage and it doesn't seem like his ribs punctured his lungs, so it could just be from the large amount of dirt inhaled combined with his already damaged lungs. Once the paramedics are ready, we are sending him to the hospital for x-rays just to be safe. He is coherent however, although nauseas, so don't do anything that'll make it worse."

"So we can see him now?" Justin asked.

"Well, paramedics would like to keep it to only family, as all this chaos has been overwhelming." Doctor Thompson sighed.

"But, I'm like family…" Justin tried to argue.

"Yes, I know but it's not my call. Plus, don't you have an event to finish?" Doctor Thompson responded.

"But… but… fine." Justin said, giving in and walking back to the center of the arena sadly.

"You can come in if you'd like Matthew." Doctor Thompson said, looking over at him. Canada nodded and started walking through the door, England following behind.

"Whoa, hold up. Who are you?" Doctor Thompson asked, blocking England from going through the door.

"He's our older brother, Arthur." Canada cut in, seeing England already getting irritated.

"He the one I heard yelling?" Doctor Thompson questioned suspiciously.

"Yes, yes he is." Canada sighed.

"Now Matthew, I don't want him going in if this will cause Alfred more stress." Doctor Thompson stated.

"Don't worry; I'll keep an eye on him." Canada promised.

"Hmm… Alright. I'm going to go check on the paramedics, Things better be okay when I return." Doctor Thompson said before walking off.

In the room,

America looked up, blinking a few times as he heard a knock on the door. He smiled happily as Canada walked in. Quickly he removed the oxygen mask he had been wearing and sat up.

"Hey, Bro… how's it…" America paused and his eyes widened, heart suddenly dropping.

"What is he doing here?" He asked spotting England walking in behind. His face paled visibly and he started to get a slight tremor in his hands as he feared what might happen next.

"He's here to make sure you're okay Al." Canada replied.

"Yeah, since you decided to be idiotic and almost get yourself killed by a bull!" England growled. "What the bloody hell made you think that was a good idea?!"

"Arthur!" Canada said in warning, he didn't want this turning into a fight.

"Iggy, I…" America started.

"Do NOT call me that. Now answer me, what in that thick head of yours made you think riding a raging animal was a smart idea?! And I swear, if you say it's because stensons are cool, I will strangle you!" England snapped, smacking America's hat over his eyes.

"AH! Iggy, concussion…" America whimpered as a painful throb coursed through his head.

"And another thing, why did you hide it from me? How could you not tell your own brother that your trying to kill yourself?!" England started to shout.

"Iggy… Please stop… Please?" America half whimpered half sobbed.

"THAT IS ENOUGH ARTHUR!" Matthew snarled, grabbing England by the arm. "LOOK!" He growled pointing at America. England's heart dropped in guilt as he saw America holding his head in his hand. His eyes were shut tight, tears running down his cheeks as the pain intensified. His body shook in silent sobs as his head throbbed and chest began to burn again. Canada shoved England aside and sat down on the table beside America, rubbing his hand up and down his little brothers back.

"Mattie… I don't feel…" America began to say before breaking into a coughing fit, which soon turned into gagging. Seeing the inevitable, Canada leapt from the table and grabbed the waste basket, shoving it into America's lap. Immediately, America gripped the sides as he retched up blood and whatever he had left in his stomach into the waste basket. England flinched and looked at the ground, feeling absolutely horrible now. Once he finished, Canada took the basket from him and placed it back on the ground. Canada then sat back on the table next to his brother, wrapping his arm around the younger and pulling America to lean against him.

"That… That was gross…" America said, letting out a shaky breath. His whole body shook violently from the effort that took and he closed his eyes slowly, wiping away a few stray tears.

"Yeah, I know Al." Canada responded as he went back to rubbing circles on America's back.

"Alfred… Look I'm…" England said before he was interrupted by Doctor Thompson coming in.

"So, how's the boy doing?" Doctor Thompson asked. He paused seeing the state his patient was in and frowned. "Something happen?"

"He threw up again." Canada stated, glancing at America as he shuddered at the mention of it.

"Yes, well concussions can cause that." Doctor Thompson sighed. "The paramedics are ready to take ya to the hospital for x-rays, feel alright to walk?" America nodded his head slowly and slide off the table carefully, Canada close behind. They all walked out of the arena and up to the awaiting ambulance.

"Mr. Jones?" One asked. America nodded and the paramedic continued. "Good, let's get going." The paramedic opened the back door and stepped aside allowing America to climb in. Canada followed right behind, muttering about being his brother.

"I'm his brother too." England stated as he was about to climb in as well.

"Um, Arthur… Maybe it'd be best if you drove there on your own." Canada suggested. He didn't want the ride to be even more uncomfortable for America.

"But Matthew…" And with that Canada closed the door to the ambulance. England let out a sad sigh, knowing exactly why he wasn't being allowed in. He turned quickly and made his way to his car, hopping in and driving after the retreating ambulance. 'I need to make this right.' England thought has he followed behind, gut clenching in worry and guilt.

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So, was it okay? Schools out in two weeks, so expect another update soon.


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